


Love's on High

by emynn



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Butt Plugs, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, M/M, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emynn/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian has no job, no prospects, is $100,000 in debt, and generally feels like shit. Fortunately, he can always rely on a little Sunshine to light the way. Set between 3 x 14 and 4 x 01.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's on High

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Britin 30 Day Challenge on Tumblr, Prompt #4: "I Feel You" by Depeche Mode

“Did you even move since I left?”

Brian opens his eyes, rolls over on the pillow so he has a clear view of the door. He smiles; the door doesn’t let in any additional light, but his loft feels brighter and warmer regardless. “Sunshine. Back so soon?”

“If you call a ten hour shift soon, sure,” Justin says. He drops his bag down by the door and drags a pillow over next to Brian’s. “Did you eat anything?”

“My mouth was otherwise occupied,” Brian says. It’s strange; before Justin walked in, Brian could have sworn he’d just headed off to the Diner twenty minutes ago. Now, with him back at the loft, Brian feels each and every one of those ten hours ten times over. Irritated, he tugs Justin closer to him, close enough so he can rest his head in his lap. 

“I brought back some lemon bars,” Justin says, stroking Brian’s hair. “I should’ve known I’d find you like this and brought a sandwich.”

“Find me like what?” Brian asks. He stretches ever so slightly, arching into Justin’s touch. “I had a fucking fabulous day.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Justin says. “Only what are you going to do when you finish your chronic? You hate the weed I buy.”

“Cheap shit gives me a headache,” Brian mutters.

“Right.” Justin leans down, presses a kiss to Brian’s forehead. “We can’t have that.”

Brian raises a hand, reaches back until he feels the back of Justin’s head. Justin smiles ever so slightly and doesn’t move away, so Brian counts it as a success. “I jerked off,” he says.

Justin’s face is amused. “Did you now?”

“You asked if I moved,” Brian says. “I moved my hand over my dick. Over and over and over--”

Justin silences him with a kiss. “Did you take anything else?”

Brian thinks about the six-pack he went through and the handle of vodka he’s pretty sure he made a reasonably large dent in. “Not really.”

Justin’s smile fades away. He brushes back Brian’s hair, somehow looking very sad. Brian hates that. “We need to talk.”

Brian hates that even more.

“Can’t we just relax here?” Brian asks. He finds Justin’s shoulder and pulls him around so they’re both lying on the oversized pillows. “They’re very comfortable.”

Justin sighs. “They are,” he agrees. “Where’d you even get these?”

Brian laughs. It’s probably more of a giggle, but he doesn’t give a fuck. “At Pets Pagoda.”

Ah, there’s nothing Brian loves than seeing Justin’s mouth hanging open. Except perhaps for seeing it hanging open before Brian shoves his hard cock inside it. “Sorry?”

“Special ordered them,” Brian says. “Imported from Italy.”

“You mean all this time we’ve been fucking on glorified doggy beds?” Justin asks.

“What better place to fuck you doggy style,” Brian says, nuzzling his face in Justin’s neck, “than in a doggy bed?”

“That’s really why you bought them?” Justin asks. “That’s crazy, even for you.”

“I wanted to fuck you doggy style on the floor without fucking up my knees,” Brian repeats. Christ, why is Justin making this so difficult?

“We weren’t even together then.”

Brian frowns. Fucking Ian. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t still want to fuck you doggy style on the floor,” he says. “And if we were going to have picnics on the floor, might as well be comfortable.”

Justin’s hands come once again to tangle in Brian’s hair. “You really were thinking that? Even then?”

“Have I ever fucking lied to you?”

Justin sighs. “No.”

Brian lifts his head, looks over at Justin. His forehead is furrowed, as though he’s trying to work out a particularly complicated math problem in his head. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized who you reminded me of,” Justin says, and stands up. Brian grunts and forces himself to sit up. “Me.”

Brian blinks. That’s not what he was expecting.

“Me back after I broke up with Ethan and realized I’d made the biggest fucking mistake of my life,” Justin continues. 

Brian suddenly feels sick to his stomach. He wonders if Justin mixed up some of his cheap weed with the chronic. Again. 

“Not in breaking up with Ethan,” Justin says hurriedly, and Brian hates that something must have shown on his face. “In leaving you. And I had no idea how to get you back, or if you’d even _want_ me back. I was a fucking mess. I barely even felt like myself. I didn't feel ... whole.”

“I’m not --”

But Justin’s already gone, opening the refrigerator. “I’m getting changed,” he says, and begins pulling out items and setting them on the counter. “And you’re going to drink this entire bottle of water, eat some of the leftover spaghetti from last night, and at least one of those lemon bars, and then we’re going on a walk. I have a surprise for you.”

Brian frowns. He wouldn’t mind eating; he’s suddenly very aware he’s missed two meals. “It’s fucking freezing out,” he says.

“I doubt you’ll feel it in that state,” Justin says, and disappears into the bedroom.

Brian’s just finishing up his second lemon bar when Justin re-emerges. He’s wearing one of Brian’s black tank tops, and somehow the thought of that alone, knowing Justin has nearly as many clothes as he does and he still chose to wear something of Brian’s, makes him hard immediately. He wants to pounce, wants to drag Justin back down to the pillows and fuck him, but something in Justin’s expression stops him. It immediately puts Brian on guard, and he feels the melancholia he’d so carefully stifled with his best chronic return to him in waves.

No job.

No prospects.

More than $100,000 in debt.

And the only furniture in his loft is a bed, a few dining chairs, and fucking doggy pillows.

Christ, his life’s fucked. 

And Justin may have promised to stick around, but, _fuck_ , what nineteen-year-old would want to be with saddled with a fuck up like him? Who knew how long Brian would even be able to keep this loft? Not even Justin would be interested in fucking a washed up ad exec who lived in a Motel 6.

“Come on,” Justin says after he shrugs on his jacket. “Let’s go.”

Brian sighs, allows Justin to slide his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and lead them out of the loft. All along the way, he waits for Justin to say something. Waits for him to tell him he needs to shape the fuck up and find a job, any job, even if it’s not the job he wants. Waits for him to say he’s worried about his drinking habits, worried he’s smoking too much. Waits for him to say he’s sorry, but it’s too much, and he can’t stay.

It never comes. Instead, when Brian finally breaks free from the mutinous thoughts circling his mind, he realizes they’re standing outside of Babylon. “This is your big surprise?” he asks.

“Not yet,” Justin says, and, grabbing his hand, leads him inside.

The _thumpa thumpa_ , which had diminished to nearly a whimper during the election season, has crescendoed to new heights, and welcomes them with a dangerous, seductive beat. Justin pulls Brian through the crowd, not stopping until they’re in the center of it. 

Brian loops his arms around Justin’s neck and rests his forehead against Justin’s own. Life feels almost normal here, at least more normal than back at his nearly empty loft. With the bass pounding around them, with Justin so close he can feel his every movement, Brian feels like the missing pieces of his soul are somehow conjoining back together, making him whole once more. _Sex god of Liberty Avenue, some assembly required._

But he’s not going to think of any of that shit right now. He’s going to focus on Justin’s fingertips digging into his hips, moving both of them to the throbbing beat of the music. He’s going to focus on the way Justin feels so fucking close to him right now, so close that Brian could swear Justin’s somewhat labored breathing was his own. He’s going to focus on that beautiful, hard cock he can feel grinding into his thigh. And he’s going to focus on how Justin’s undoing his fly, pulling out his dick, and…

_Fuck._

He doesn’t say anything, just watches as Justin spits into his palm and takes his shaft in his hand and slowly strokes it. Brian sighs and bites his lip, unable to tear his gaze away. Justin’s completely focused on his task, gently but firmly pulling at his dick, his thumb flicking around the head the way that always makes Brian groan. And then, just when Brian thinks that maybe this will be it, maybe Justin will keep jerking him off until his hips buck and he shoost his load right there on the dance floor, Justin has to surprise him again, and drops to his knees.

 _Christ_ , it’s the hottest thing Brian’s ever seen. The last time he was blown in the middle of Babylon it’d been shortly after Justin had left him for the fucking fiddler. At that time, it’d felt like he was coming undone. Now, with Justin on his knees in front of him, in front of everybody, swallowing his dick whole, Brian feels like he’s coming alive. Justin gazes up at him and their eyes lock, and Brian swears he can read his fucking mind. He feels Justin’s mouth hot around his cock, but somehow, in his mind, he’s also the one on his knees, the one working Justin to a mind-blowing climax. In this moment, Brian wonders if he’s somehow finally done it, if he’s finally achieved immortality, because no mere mortal could feel something this good, this intense. Then he wonders if he’s lost his mind -- but then Justin deliberately swipes his tongue along his frenulum and Brian knows he has.

Justin releases his cock suddenly, wipes his mouth, and stands up. “Come on,” he says, and grabs Brian by his waistband. “I want you to fuck me.”

Brian doesn’t even care that his dick’s sticking out of his jeans, leading them to the back room like a goddamn compass pointing north. He doesn’t even give a shit that everybody’s probably staring at him, the great Brian Kinney, being led into the back room by his belt loops by a gorgeous blond twink, an action that had always been his signature move. All he fucking cares about is he’s finally bursting through the oblivion that had been clouding his days, he finally feels life tingling beneath his skin, and he knows, he _knows_ that Justin’s going to be the one to bring it out full-force.

He pushes Justin against the first available wall space he can find, kissing him roughly on the mouth. Justin’s so fucking hard, rubbing against him and gasping for breath, and Brian makes quick work of unzipping his fly and tugging down his pants. The second Justin’s cock comes free, slapping against his belly, Brian’s tempted to get on his knees right then and there and suck it, but they don’t have time for that right now. He reaches in his pocket for a condom and is rolling it onto his dick when he sees Justin has already turned around, already has his hands braced against the wall, and, evidently, is already prepared.

“My, my, my, Taylor,” Brian says, gently tugging at the base of the butt plug. “Have you had this in you all night?”

Justin flashes a cheeky smile over his shoulder -- at least, it would be cheeky if his face wasn’t so flushed and he wasn’t clearly so desperate to be fucked. “Surprise.” 

“I don’t recognize this particular one,” Brian says. He fingers where the base meets Justin’s skin, drawing a low groan from Justin. “New?”

"Bought it last week. I was saving it for a special occasion.”

Brian tugs it out just a bit, twirls it without fully removing it. “You walked all the way to Babylon with this toy in your ass.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I bet you were hard the second we walked out the door,” Brian says, licking the side of Justin’s neck. “You were so fucking hard, and you didn’t even tell me.”

“Brian...”

“And with each step I bet it was rubbing against your prostate. You were leaking in your jeans before we even entered Babylon. That’s why you jerked me off in the middle of the club. That’s why you got on your knees and sucked me off, as everybody watched. You were fucking desperate to come, and you wanted to take me along with you.”

Justin moans, throwing his head back. Brian can’t resist his arched back and splays his hands over his shoulder blades. They look so large as they press into his back, leaving white marks against flushed skin, and Brian has the sudden hysterical notion that it looks almost as if he’s gifting Justin with angel wings. How appropriate, since Justin’s the one who’s saving him once again.

And now it’s time to make his angel sing. 

He removes the butt plug and Justin cries out, immediately shoving his ass back against him. Brian covers one of Justin’s with his and grips his fingers tightly as he slams into him. It’s hard and fast and rough and Brian feels as though his entire body’s about to catch flame. 

“You like this.” It’s not a question, but Justin swallows and nods his head. “You liked the toy in your ass, filling you up, but you love my cock even more.”

“Fuck, Brian,” Justin pants, and begins jerking himself off, but Brian bats his hand away.

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he whispers into Justin’s ear. “You were so close to coming with that toy, and you think I’m just going to let you _off_ ” -- a particularly hard thrust of his hips -- “that easily? Oh, no, Sunshine.” 

Justin grows and reaches back to grab Brian’s ass. “Fucking _fuck_ me, then,” Justin says. 

Brian’s hips are already nearly snapping, and he’s already regretting telling Justin his dick won’t be getting any attention because he’s so fucking tempted by the thought of taking it firmly in his hand, of feeling his come shoot all over his hand. 

Justin pushes back against him, and it’s clear he’s not about to take a passive role in this. Not that he ever did. Brian may be fucking him, but Justin’s fucking him right back, and they’re working together to achieve release. Brian doesn’t believe in god or in heaven or hell or any of that bullshit, at least not in the way most people do, but he believes in Justin, and he believes in _this_ , and somehow he knows when they come, they’ll both be transported to a glorious kingdom of their own making, and that’s worth more than any heaven of the church’s making.

“Fuck, _Brian_!” Justin shouts, and Brian’s jolted right back to the present. Justin groans all through his climax, nearly making a strangled sob as his come splatters over the wall in front of him. Brian continues pounding into him, no longer willing to wait. Just as Justin draws one last deep, shuddering breath, Brian bites down on his shoulder and comes, feeling his entire world explode in white-hot fire.

Brian turns Justin around and envelopes him in his arms, kissing him as fiercely as he’s able. It’s fucking corny as hell, but he can’t help but feel something’s broken inside of him in the best of ways, and light’s finally breaking free. And, of course, he owes it all to Sunshine.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice husky even to his own ears.

Justin doesn’t say anything, only grazes Brian’s neck with soft, sweet kisses as his hands trace tantalizing trails down his back. Brian holds him close, desperate to replicate in his embrace the same way he feels right now, as though Justin’s wrapped up within him in an entirely new way, a way that’s intoxicating and terrifying and thrilling all at once. They look out of place, he’s sure, among all the men rutting against each other, their only purpose to get off and enjoy a good night of tricking, but Brian doesn’t give a shit.

He has Justin.

He’s alive.

And he’s whole.


End file.
